Drink and Be Merry
by Winter Fae
Summary: "Then it would please me greatly if you would join me, my dear wife. We shall drink and be merry." He raised his cup in another salute, and with a little hesitation I followed suit.
1. Chapter 1

_I wanted to see their wedding night as something other then sad and lonely. So really, this is a very self-indulgent piece. Enjoy anyways._

* * *

The walk back to our chambers was long and painfully quiet. The nerves in my belly were almost enough to make me sick. After we left the feast Tyrion seems to gain back some of his awareness, he wasn't stumbling over himself anymore which made me question his level of drunkenness to begin with. We were no longer in the lions den and that's all that mattered. I didn't let myself dwell on the fact that I was still in the presence of one, even if he was the littlest.

When we reach our rooms he holds the door for me to enter ahead of him and I quickly walk in and turn to face him, afraid of what he'll do now that he has me alone.

"My lady, please don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you." He didn't even stop after he entered the room, walking straight to the table where a jug of wine sat. He sounded tired and pained. As much as I was keeping my eyes on him he was doing all he could to avoid mine.

He was pouring himself a cup, "Do you think that's wise, My Lord?"

"Tyrion. My name is Tyrion." He says quietly.

"Do you think that's wise, Tyrion?"

He finally turned to me then and raised his cup in a mock salute, "Nothing was ever wiser. You really should join me, it'll make the hell we're in a little less...hellish."

"I don't think it's wise for me to lose my head on this night." He met my eyes then and I knew that he understood what I was implying. I don't want to lose my ability to protect myself from what was bound to happen soon. He hasn't made a move toward me since we entered the room but I was still tense with the possibility that it could happen at any moment.

"My Lady." He sighed, slumping back into the chair that was behind him. "Will you ever believe me when I say I will not harm you? I may be many things, Sansa, but I am not a rapist and I will never raise a hand to a lady to get what I want."

"But your father..."

"If my father wants someone to get fucked, I know where he can start." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. His anger towards his father put me at ease. Tyrion has never hurt me and has done all he could to comfort me when so little have. I want to believe him, so badly, when he says he will never bring me pain, but my pure hatred for the Lannisters is keeping me from letting my guard down. Even if my gut is telling me it's okay with him. He's different.

"My wife, I will not share your bed until you want me to."

"What if I never want you to?" The question left my mouth without a thought, so quick I couldn't stop it.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Guilt hit my chest and I flinched. Regardless of how true my question was, he doesn't deserve my revulsion towards him and the thought of laying with him as his wife. I'm sure that the pain on his face is now mirrored on my own.

I took a breath, prepared to offer my apologies but he was quicker. "So be it, I still have my wine." He finished his cup with a few gulps. And poured himself another.

My feet were starting to hurt from standing so still and I saw no reason not to join him at the table. If he wasn't going to take me to bed like I thought, I was at a loss as to what to do. I took the seat at a corner to his, and there was honest surprise on his face as I sat.

"I thought I'd join you, My Lord. Tyrion." I came this far, I might as well go all the way. I reached for the wine jug. It was true, that I don't favor wine but I was determined to not let this night get any worse by my reluctance to believe my husband. He has shown me kindness and I will do the same for him by sharing this with him.

Taking a heavy drink, I tried to break the tension that has settled over the room. "Do you always use wine to escape difficulties in your life, Tyrion?"

"Not always, but it sure does help. With the help of a little drink my mind is allowed a moment of peace by becoming cloudy and I'm able to forget, for a while, that my life is a hell I'll never get away from. You think my family is horrid now? Imagine yourself a dwarf, growing up forced to face them every day of your life. Are you imagining it? You have the urge to drink now too, don't you?" He laughed as if he told a joke. But it wasn't a joke, it was his reality.

I took another gulp of wine and he laughed again.

"I suppose if I were in your place I'd do the same. Being a lady, it's not really proper to turn to drink when things go poorly. At the moment I don't have anything to turn to when things get hard. And things have been hard for a long time now." He shared a truth about his life, I'll share a truth about mine. Obvious truths for the both of us, but they carry a different weight when spoken out loud.

"I envy your ability to escape, however distasteful I may find it."

He smiled then, "Then it would please me greatly if you would join me, My dear wife. We shall drink and be merry." He raised his cup in another salute, and with a little hesitation I followed suit. As I raised my cup his face lit up and he let out a loud "Ha!" in his excitement. I couldn't help but let out a gust of laughter myself and smile in return.

The tension slowly left the room after that.

Tyrion was full of conversation from that point on, asking questions and telling me stories. He was a well educated man I learned and he took pleasure in asking me about my own, and what things I enjoyed learning the most. Learning my duties as a Lady didn't make the list.

I was laughing more than I had laughed in such a long time, far longer than I cared to think about. Throughout the night his stories became increasingly outlandish and I questioned the validity of more than one of them, but I did not care either way. I would laugh and he would smile wider and we both drank more wine.

I was holding my sides, laughing so hard at one point it was becoming hard to breath. "Oh, this dress is beginning to kill me I believe. This, I would do away with if I wasn't a Lady, Tyrion. The dresses may be pretty but some...they are meant to slowly kill us, I'm convinced!"

He chuckled at my distaste for the garment, "You are free, My Lady, to not be a lady when you are here in our rooms. I will not judge you, I give you my word." He placed his hand over his breast with a solemn look on his face. I could tell he was trying not to smile.

"I'm taking this off, Tyrion, I can not take it another minute." I began untying the laces of my dress, and one piece after another I got it off. Already the relief was wonderful, and I was left sitting with my husband clad only in my slip. Throwing my gown to the ground I declared, "There! I'm Lady free."

"Ah, there you are, my wife Sansa!" He smiled and handed me back my cup of wine. We had finished the first jug and Tyrion had called for Podrick to bring us another. We were verging on finishing that one as well.

I should be embarrassed right now, I realized. Sitting here, wearing so little in front of Tyrion. I wasn't though, not even a bit. He wasn't looking at me any different or being inappropriate and I was no longer afraid of any unwanted advances from him. I'm not so sure they would be unwanted at the moment. I don't let myself dwell on that thought.

"If we are tossing out our Lord and Ladyships here in our room then I shall follow my Sansa's lead. We may hide it well, but these coats are damn hot at times." I nodded in understanding as he began the task of removing his outer coat. As he was pulling it off his left shoulder he tilted to the side a little too far and began to topple.

I moved quickly forward to catch his arm before he slid right off the chair and I began to laugh. With my help he righted himself once more, but my grip on his arm remained as he joined me in my laughter. We were feeding off each other it seemed. I caught his eye and laughed harder and he grabbed my hand and threw his head back as he tried to catch his breath.

"You nearly took me down with you! Can you imagine, we'd be a pile of laughing wine on the floor." I giggled picturing it in my head. What a sight we'd be.

"Thank you for your quick reaction, Sansa. I believe you saved me from a bruised hip and ego." We seem to be unable to calm our humor at the moment. I scooted my chair around the table corner to set it in front of his own turned chair.

"I feel it's safer if I move here, husband. I can't having you falling all over the place. It is my duty to keep you safe upright."

"Ahh, quite a job there, I hope you are prepared. I've been known to tip over a time or two. Being so close to the ground as I am, it's always a tempting thing to just fall down and not get back up. Stops the spinning."

"I am prepared, Tyrion. I saved you once, I shall do it again." I reached down and removed my shoes. I should have done it a lot sooner, a few of my toes were red from the pressure. I threw them to the side with the rest of our garments. "May I run around barefoot as well when we are here? The cold stone feels like heaven on my feet."

"Of course, of course, who am I to stop your feet from heaven? What kind of husband would I be." he scoffed, kicking his own boots off as well.

"May I confess something, My Lord? If I had the nerve I'd run around the gardens barefoot and in my slip. The idea seems very appealing right now."

Tyrion laughed, then pointed his finger at me, "I forbid my wife from running around in her underclothes where any wild man can see her. Now, if you feel like running around in your underclothes while in our chambers...well, I will certainly not object." He winked in an exaggerated manner and took a drink.

I let out a laugh, "Alright, I can settle for just our rooms than, Lord Husband. I'll be satisfied with that."

"Good."

And there goes the last of the wine. I drink what little I was able to pour in my cup. Without a thought I get up and walk to the door. Waiting on the other side, on the floor, was Podrick reading a book. When he saw me standing there he jumped to his feet. "Podrick, can I trouble you with getting us some more wine?"

"Ye-yes, My Lady. Certainly." He stumbles back, still looking at me.

Tyrion yells from behind me, "Sansa! What did I just say about wild men seeing you like that? Shut the door, for heavens sake, Pod will have himself a heart attack."

I yelp and quickly shut the door in his face. I return to my seat by Tyrion and I can't help but to laugh at the look on his face. Unamused is the look.

I've never felt like this before. The wine has made my head cloudy like Tyrion said it would, and I feel free for the first time. I'm not watching my words or my actions and I'm free with my laughter. I can't honestly imagine being like this with anyone else, here in King's Landing or anywhere else for that matter. I wouldn't have imagined myself like this with Tyrion just a day ago either, but things have changed. After his own laughter and silly stories and questions of my passions, he's different to me now, I'm not seeing him as Lord Tyrion Lannister, brother to the wretched Cersei, and uncle to the devil himself.

Right now, in our rooms, sitting at this table he is my husband. My friend. A man who I can now apparently get lost in a jug of wine with while sitting in my slip and my feet bare. I smile at him.

"I'm sorry, Tyrion. I didn't even think before I opened the door. It won't happen again. I would hate to be the cause of poor Podrick's heart attack."

"Hmmph. I'll let it go just this once," he says, holding up his finger. "But if it happens again, I'll make him blindfold himself every time he comes here. I won't have my squire imagining you in anything less."

"My Lord! He would not do such a thing...would he?"

Tyrion tilts his head to the side and gives me a look, as if I must be joking.

"Alright, make him wear a blindfold from now on."

Tyrion gives a booming laugh and slaps his knee.

We relax back into a comfortable silence while we wait for the wine and I toy with the ring on my finger. I remember suddenly what Tyrion said to me just this morning. That I'm no longer a prisoner, but his wife. Which he corrected would be a different sort of prison. He's wrong. This isn't prison at all.

A knock sounds at the door, and Tyrion hurries out of his chair before I can even think about getting up myself. "I'll get it, don't move an inch." He says as he goes to open the door, only slightly, just enough to get the jug through. "Thank you, Pod. That will be all for the night."

"Yes, My Lord. Goodnight."

I laugh, "Is that how you will go to the door from now on? Peeking out before receiving whoever is there?"

"Yes." is all he says.

Still amused, I hold out my cup for him to fill. Once we're both topped off he returns to his chair but reaches down to grab my feet before settling back. He places them in his lap gently and begins to caress the tops with his short fingers.

I'm surprised, but I keep my feet where they lay.

"Hopefully we will be left alone for a few days. Surely they will give us peace since we were just wed. Thinking about seeing them again so soon makes me want to retch."

I couldn't agree with him more. "I shall pray tonight for our peace." He raises his cup in approval.

Our words have been slow, and slightly slurred for a while now. I always scoffed at the drunks I've seen, but being one now is different. Safe here in our rooms, I imagine it to be much different and much better than being drunk anywhere else.

Tyrion keeps one hand on my feet and the other on his drink. He's not doing much besides lightly running his fingers up and down the tops of them. It's relaxing and I lose myself for a bit in the feeling.

"What, Sansa, would you like to do tomorrow?"

"At this rate I imagine myself still in a wine haze."

Tyrion lets out a little chuckle, "If that is so then we shall just stay in bed all day. I'll tell anyone that comes to the door to piss off."

I come alert a bit more at the mention of the bed. He didn't mean anything untoward about it, he just means to sleep. I know this but my stomach still flutters a bit when I think about it. His touch on my feet is soft and gentle. There's nothing unpleasant at all about it. It's wonderful really, after a day in my shoes. What would his hands feel like anywhere else on me?

Stop it. I take another drink of my wine.

"I don't remember the last time I stayed in bed for any other reason than being sick."

Tyrion gets a slightly guilty look on his face. "Well, there is a chance the wine will make another appearance, and not in a very pleasant way."

No, no, I do not want to get sick. I look down at my cup, "I'm not going to retch from this am I?"

"No, I do believe you are safe from that. Do you feel sick now?" I shake my head no. "I imagine you would have felt sick by now if you were to be sick at all, we have gone through quite a bit of wine this evening. Just as long as you don't start dancing around the room." He runs the back of his fingers up the sole of one foot and I curl my toes and laugh.

"I will refrain from dancing then, My Lord."

"Pity, I imagine a dancing Sansa to be very beautiful. Another time maybe?"

I wiggle my toes into his belly and make him laugh.

"Yes, maybe another time when I'm much less likely to be sick all over the room."

"Barefoot and in your underclothes?"

"I can't imagine how else I would dance around the room." I can't stop myself from grinning. What an odd conversation to be having with Tyrion.

"All this talk of being sick is not a wise choice of topic." He yawned and continued. "Have you ever had this much to drink before, Sansa?"

His yawn makes me yawn in return. "Oh no, I have never done this before. I can see why you turn to drink now. You should ask me to join you next time you need a cloudy head."

He looks at me for a moment, thoughtful and sweet. "You would like to sit and share a cup of wine with me when things are unpleasant?"

The air in the room seems to change and I can't stop the words from pouring out. "I tried to hate you before. You are a Lannister and all Lannisters are cruel and poisonous. Why would you be any different." I'll never be able to drink wine in the company of anyone else after this. I take a deep breath. "But you are different, aren't you? I knew it when you saved me from Joffery, but I didn't want to believe it. Believing it would only put me in danger when I realize you're the same as them. And then this marriage. I'm tied to them now, I won't ever be free."

Tyrion's face has lost all the playfulness that has been present all night. No, his smile needs to come back, he needs to know I mean no harm.

"Then, you came to me and told me you wouldn't ever hurt me. Such beautiful words in such a dreadful place. But I couldn't allow myself to believe you because I knew things would be different once we were married. There's expectations for marriage and I was convinced that you would take what you believed to be yours. Yet here we are, Tyrion! This, I never imagined this." I reach forward and take his cup and place it on the table and putting my hand in it's place. His other hands grip on my foot had tightened.

"You defy everyone's expectations of you, Tyrion. You are different. You have shown me that by not taking me like I believed you would. Instead, we've sat together, drank together, and have done nothing but laugh all evening." I squeeze his hand urging him to understand how important this is. "I wish, more than anything, that I would have let myself trust you. If I would have just let you be on my side. I wouldn't have felt so alone. It's been horrible here, Tyrion. But this night? It's been a breath of fresh air. You are my husband now and I am so grateful for that."

I think I've run out of words and I just hope that I haven't ruined our night. His smile still hasn't returned and my stomach hurts.

"My lady...Sansa." He huffs and looks down at my feet. "I have wanted nothing more than to shield you from all the horrors that take place here. To protect you from my family. I knew you would hate me for being forced to marry, and I had accepted that. As long as I could keep you safe I could accept your hate.

"But not now. I won't be able to accept it after this night, this unexpected night of happiness. If you hate me tomorrow it will be unbearable."

I shake my head, and quietly reassure him, "No, Tyrion, I will not hate you. I could not make myself hate you before and I certainly won't now."

There, there is his smile. I find that I don't like it when it is gone.

He doesn't say anything more on the topic, he lets it fade away and returns to running his fingers along my feet.

"Tell me another funny story." I know we're both getting tired but I don't want this to end yet. Just a little while longer.

"Let's see. Well, there was the time when I was 12 that I thought it was a good idea to steal away one of the horses...I'll tell you now I didn't get very far." He spins his tale and our laughter returns within moments.

"I miss riding. Now that you know how to properly ride a horse," I poke fun, "we should go riding someday."

He nods his head and yawns again. "That would be nice. I do believe our time of wine has come to an end. I won't be able to keep my eyes open much longer." He puts our cups on the table and I reluctantly move my feet back to the floor. The cold stone isn't heaven anymore.

I stand up to put my chair back in its place and I sway to the side.

"Whoa there, easy." Tyrion grabs my arm to steady me. I'm laughing again and I put my hand on his shoulder to get my balance back but he's not much steadier than I am at this point. We both have to put a hand on the chair to stop moving. He catches my eye and starts laughing as well. "I was going to help you over to the bed, but I don't know if I could make it myself." He says around a chuckle.

"Well, you're going to have to make it there eventually. We might as well walk there together. If I fall I'll be taking you with me, My Lord."

"Any other day, I would try my best to catch you...but tonight I'm sorry, I would just let you fall."

We're holding onto each other now, laughing till our eyes start to water. Our humor has put any unease I may have felt over sharing the bed with my husband to rest. "Come now, I'm going to fall over if we stand here any longer."

I keep my hand on his shoulder and he puts his arm around my waist to hold my hip.

"Slow and steady we shall go, My Lady." We sway a few times, laughing the whole time, but we make it there in the end without tumbling down. I'm afraid if we did fall, we would have stayed there.

I climb in slowly and collapse atop the blankets. I can feel Tyrion getting into bed behind me and I roll over a little to give him room. I watch as he unbuttons his shirt. He sees me looking and apologizes. "I'm sorry, Sansa, but I can not sleep in a shirt. I will never rest if I do. Be assured I mean nothing by it."

I shake my head against the pillow, "It is fine. I'm not worried." And I'm not. I blame the wine, but I do not look away as he removes his shirt and throws it to the side. He has dark blond hair on his chest and I can't look away. Stop it. It's not proper to stare. But I'm not a lady in our rooms. So I continue to look.

He pulls the blankets the best he can from beneath my body, I try to help by sitting up but I can't stay there long and I fall back down. Once they're free he places the blanket over the both of us and lays back himself.

I'm laying there with my eyes closed. "We left the candles burning, Tyrion."

"No, I do not care, I'm not getting up to blow them out."

I laugh and let it go. They'll burn out in the night. I turn my head to look at him and he's there facing me as well. I wince when I feel the pins in my hair poke into my scalp.

"What's wrong?"

"My hair is still up." I reach up to start undoing what I can but my arms feel like they're missing their bones. Tyrion moves to lean on the pillow and reaches up to help the best he can. I put my arms down after a moment and let him continue. I'm yawning again and my eyes can't stay open. I feel his fingers move through my hair and I sigh at how nice it feels. "Thank you, husband."

"I got as much as I could. I will laugh in the morning when your hair is a mess and I will not apologize for it." His voice is quiet and slow and I can hear him yawn.

I laugh and keep my eyes closed. "How very kind of you, My Lord."

We lay there peacefully for some time, sinking into the warmth of the bed.

So quiet I almost miss it. "Thank you, Sansa." I turn to look at him. He holds my gaze. "Thank you for sharing the wine with me."

I lean over and gently place my lips on his cheek. I stay there a breath longer than I ought to and finally relax back into my spot in bed. He's smiling again. I could thank him for so many things right now, but I keep my silence and just watch him smile.

In such a short time, things changed a great deal. If I was able to see Tyrion differently in just a night, to see him as my friend and not my enemy, what would happen if we were given more time? And we do, we have all the time in the world now as husband and wife. No, this is not a prison like I imagined, like he imagined. If I am to be paired with Tyrion for the remainder of my life, I know now that he will make it as happy for us as he can. Prison, no. Paradise? Compared to my life here so far, yes. Yes, it will be paradise.

In all the times I thought about my wedding night, getting drunk with my husband never crossed my mind. I reach over and find his hand.

I am glad it happened all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, I found out that there was more to write for this. Never planned on it, but here it is. And from all the things I now have stored up in my documents, there will be more after this one as well. Snapshots really. Enjoy_.

* * *

It's too bright of a morning. On days like today it should be rainy and dark. Next to me Sansa moans and I feel her roll over, she's trying to bury her face underneath my shoulder. She must share my feelings on this morning. I reach down without looking and take the edge of the blanket and throw it over our heads. That should do the trick.

I'm beginning to remember our night. So unexpected. She sat with me. She shared my wine and her laughter.

My mind is moving slow but I feel so pleased and satisfied like I haven't felt for so long. What will happen when she wakes, I wonder. I do not pray any longer but I have the urge to now. Pray for our pleasant nature towards each other to remain in the light of day.

I look over at her next to me and all I see is red. Her hair is a mess under our cover. I close my eyes again and smile. I told her I would laugh and not be sorry.

* * *

When I next awoke it was to Sansa moving again. She had pulled the covers back and was sitting up, looking around.

"I trust you slept well, my lady." We had each gotten up in the night to relieve ourselves, but aside from that we both slept the whole night through as far as I could tell.

She startled and turned to look at me, like she had forgotten for a moment that she was not alone. I started praying with more fervor.

"I...yes. Yes, I slept well, my lord." Quiet and timid. She pulled the covers higher up her body, covering herself. I sat up as well, but didn't move any closer. I made myself comfortable against the headboard.

I stayed quiet, letting her get her bearing. I truly hope she remembers our night in a happy light and not with distaste. I know we will not always be so free with each other, but I do have hope that we will now have a better, less icy relationship. You would think after spending a drunken night together that everything else would be easier.

She remained silent for an unbearable amount of time. I wondered so badly as to what she was thinking, but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable with my awkward attempts at conversation. I wanted her to be the first to start talking this morning, and I would take her lead from there. If she was upset, I would try to comfort her with reassurances that our night was in fun, and that no shame should be felt.

She was looking down at the bed, at herself, then to me without a shirt, like she was checking for something. I knew what she was questioning but I remained silent.

Finally she spoke, "We did not..." she shook her head, as if answering herself.

"No, Sansa, we did not." I left it at that.

"We sat the whole night, and sent for wine. Telling stories and laughing. My feet-" She stopped herself short. She was talking mostly to herself it seemed, under her breath, replaying the night back in her head.

A knock on the door sounded and one of the handmaids came in. I took the lead. "We would like some food and water this morning, please, but that will be all. We will not need help preparing this morning." She gave a slight bow, gathered up our mess on the table and left.

I continued to let her sit and think over the night, seeing no need yet to voice anything. I relaxed further, closing my eyes to block out the still too bright light from the window. A good amount of time passed before I felt my wife move, she slowly settled herself back against the headboard beside me, close but not touching. I looked at her, she had a hand to her head and still had the covers up to her breast but she was no longer stiff with uncertainty.

* * *

I can't be sure, but I seem to have dozed off for the next thing I know the handmaid is back and setting our food on the table we shared. I turned to Sansa then, "Do you require anything for your head, my lady?"

"No, I am fine, my lord. I've had worse pain." That wasn't reassuring, but I trusted her judgment.

"That will be all, thank you." And the handmaid left us alone once again.

Sansa was still sitting next to me, with her hands now in her lap, patient, as if she were waiting for me to do something. When she rose her eyes to mine I simply gave her a small smile and a nod of my head.

I climb out of bed and go to fetch Sansa's robe and return to the bedside. She smiled then for the first time this morning, and though small and barely there, it was like sunshine after being in shadows. I felt like I could finally breathe. She sat there for a moment more just watching me, before sliding over to my side to get out. I had planned on handing her her robe so she could cover herself, but...instead of taking the robe from me, she moved slowly and turned with her back to me, and knelt. My breath went away again.

She means for me to help her into her robe. This was deliberate, done with meaning, and just for me. The pain and humiliation I had felt at our wedding began to melt away with this one act from my wife.

I helped her put on one arm at a time then lifted it up to settle on her shoulders and I rested my hands there for a moment longer. She raised one hand of her own and placed it atop mine. We are having a conversation without uttering a word. This is an apology, and forgiveness, and an act of companionship and peace.

"Your hair is a mess." I whisper.

A burst of laughter came from Sansa then, and she put a hand to her forehead. I chuckled along with her, so ridiculously pleased, and tugged gently on a piece of her hair in a tease. She reached up to assess the damage and tried to fix what she couldn't see. I did not care if her hair was done up in braids or curls, or fresh out of bed looking a mess like I am now privileged enough to see. She was always sweet to look upon.

She rose up then and turned to me with a smile and blush on her cheeks. I reached forward and tied the sash on her robe closed. I know my lady and she will want to be covered this morning.

Continuing in her ever growing fashion of surprising me, she goes and retrieves my shirt from the night before that I had throw over the side of the bed. She turns back to me and helps me into it like I had helped her but minutes ago.

"Thank you, Sansa." I am quiet but sincere. She only nods her head in reply.

I lead her over to our table with my hand very lightly at her back and I pull her chair out for her before taking a seat myself. Without a servant present, I serve up a plate for Sansa and place it in front of her. "Thank you, my lord." she says.

"My request to be known by you as Tyrion still stands, as long as you allow me to call you Sansa."

She nods her head, "Thank you, Tyrion."

"Of course, Sansa." I say with a smile. We are off to a good start, I think. Now to make it last.

We break our fast in silence but I see her looking next to us, to the floor where our clothes and shoes still lay. She continues to look, deep in thought and I wait patiently for her to speak her mind.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior last night, Tyrion. I am a wife now and I should not-"

"No, stop, Sansa. You have nothing at all to be sorry for." I reach for her hand. "I enjoyed your company last night greatly, wife or not. Since the day you came here I have never seen you so happy or at ease. I wish and hope that you will continue to feel that way, even if it can only be here in our rooms."

She bowed her head taking in what I had said. It was almost as if she was afraid of reprimand for her behavior the night before. "Do you truly not mind, my lord?"

"Truly, Sansa." I give her hand a squeeze and bend my head down to catch her eye. "I have it on good authority that you enjoyed yourself very much last night. Better than how we both feared the night would go. I distinctly remember a certain young lady telling me of her wish to run around the gardens in her underclothes." I give her a sly teasing look.

"I fear that I regret saying that. I would never do such a thing."

"Which is well and good since I forbid you from doing it to begin with." I give her a wink and she gives me a shy smile before looking at the floor again.

My goal for this morning is to put my wife at ease. To make her understand that while it may not always be as boisterous for us like it was last night, it can still be good, we can still find our own happiness within this situation.

"Sansa." She turns her gaze to mine and I hold her attention. "I know that you do not want this marriage and you know that I did not ask for it, but I do not want to see you unhappy in it. You are safe here with me, I give you my word. I know that in court you have to behave a certain way in order to keep yourself from harm, but here, with me, you do not have to act. Please, do not hide behind your courtesies with me."

Through this all I realize that I am still holding her hand and she is now gripping mine back.

"Why are you being so good to me?" Her voice is small and I ache hearing it.

"Because you deserve nothing less, Sansa. My family has put you through hell and I hate them for it. I will not stand to see you disgraced any further." Her eyes are shining now and I know she's keeping herself from crying. My voice grows quiet. "Let me be your friend, that is all I ask of you as my wife."

It takes a moment for her to compose herself but gives a shaky nod of her head and meets my eyes.

"We will get to know each other better and things will get easier." I give her hand one last squeeze before letting go. I miss the warmth in an instant.

Our day after that is spent in quiet companionship, we dress and I suggest enjoying the warm sun by the window to read. She seemed eager at the idea so I showed her the books that were brought to our new rooms. It was a peaceful morning broken up a few times by short conversations. Nothing too deep or taxing, just polite inquiries about the books we were reading. And again at the noon hour when food was brought to us.

One of the servants picked up our clothes that we still left laying on the floor. Despite our marriage bed being free of blood, I live in hope that word will spread of the mess of clothes and will arouse curiosity enough that we will be free from any nasty comments being thrown our way. At least for a little while.

Sansa rested for a bit in the afternoon to try to alleviate her headache and we supped together in our rooms that night, our conversations not overly friendly but neither was it unpleasant. I will give my wife time. When it came to ready ourselves for bed things became stilted again. She would not meet my eye and I once again reassured her that I expected nothing from her in our bed.

"I believe you, my lord. I am just not use to sharing a bed. I apologize." She climbs into bed and pulls the covers to her chest. After blowing out a few candles, I join her on my own side.

Awkward silence falls upon us and I can barely stand it. "You know, I once dreamt that the whole court were dogs, instead of people. All except for my lovely sister. No, her head was the same but placed on the body of a dog. And when she yelled at me all I heard were barks. Just imagine my disappointment when I awoke and it was not true. Ahh, to have a half dog sister. A dwarf can only dream."

I hear Sansa begin to laugh quietly next to me and I smile up at the canopy, "Goodnight, Sansa. May you have as pleasant dreams as that one." A job well done, I have made my wife laugh and I am now ready to sleep knowing she will not go to bed sad and lonely. And neither will I.

* * *

The next morning she asks me to fetch her robe again. I do. And I will continue to place it on her shoulders every morning for as long as she is with me.

We break our fast and she tells me, "You were right." I stay quiet and wait for her to go on. "I did enjoy myself, I fear maybe too much."

I'm quick to shake my head, "No, no, you can never enjoy yourself too much on wine. I have had many a great adventures while neck deep in it." She's the one to shake her head this time and she laughs at me.

"I am glad, Sansa. You deserved to enjoy your wedding night."

"I have you to thank for that, Tyrion." She still speaks quietly with me and doesn't put too much emotion into her speech, but I am certain that with time she will relax and become more like the wife I met on our wedding night. I will slowly coax that girl out of hiding and I will be the only one to know her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Parts of this chapter do not belong to me. I added on to a scene from the show, so I borrowed some of the dialogue from that._

_I have a good chunk of the next chapter written so hopefully it won't take long to finish. Enjoy._

* * *

I find myself staring at his face some days, when we're quiet in our rooms and he's caught up in his books and me in my needlework. His face and his scars are becoming familiar and with that familiarity he is less undesirable and disfigured to me.

There are much uglier things in this world than one mans face. A face that I've come to associate with kindness and bravery. Being a foolish girl I had refused to accept his kindness, for how can one lion be tame in the middle of so much cruelty?

He is becoming less ugly to me day by day.

After our wedding night, which is still hard to recall without bringing a blush to my face, things were different. He was patient and made efforts to speak with me throughout our days. I was still cautious and terrified that things would once again be not as they seem. That my husband will turn on me like so many others have.

Yet, he hasn't and I'm beginning to trust that he never will. He is still kind and it seems that it is his goal to make me smile or laugh at least once a day. Some days he succeeds and some days he does not. On those days he sits quietly with me when he can. At first I was upset that he would not leave me be but now that I know that he is not there to bother me, he has become a silent presence in the room.

He has stayed true to his word of protection and when he is not able to be in my presence when outside of our rooms, he has his man Bronn check on me. A few times it has been his squire Podrick but he always seems too nervous to speak with me. Which I am alright with, I still remember opening the door to him in my slip. It's best if we don't speak.

Joffery is a presence I can't always avoid. My skin crawls when he comes near and I'm deeply grateful to my husband and his men that watch over me. I fear the worse would happen if they were not there.

Tyrion and I have obligations to his family as well that we can't avoid as much as we both would like. When we sup with the brood of them we arrive as late as acceptable and leave as soon as the food has been finished. When my husbands nephew or sister become too vicious he reaches for my hand under the table and I'm able to block them out while he tells them off. He's not afraid of them. I grip his hand tighter till we are able to leave. We always share a cup of wine on those dreaded nights.

Tyrion and I have settled into a routine that has become comfortable and welcome. One that I find myself enjoying. He robes me every morning when we wake and we break our fast in peaceful silence. Once he is dressed for the day he always inquires about my plans for my own and touches my hand with his before he leaves, wishing me well.

On the days I choose to stay in our rooms, which are greater than the days I leave, he makes it a point to visit me when his time is free. Tyrion has begun to take away the black cloud that has seemed to fall over me since I arrived in King's Landing. I won't ever be free of the Lannisters and our mutual hatred, but he's making it manageable.

The husband that I had dreaded having has become an unlikely friend and someone I feel I couldn't survive here without.

* * *

Tyrion is sitting at our table working on some correspondence he didn't get to yesterday and my handmaiden is getting my clothes ready for the day.

He speaks up suddenly, "You should wear the blue one. I like you in the blue one." His voice trails off, his focus back to his papers. I'm surprised by the request but I see no harm with indulging his suggestion. I give a nod to my handmaid for her to get the blue one instead.

I smirk when I see the surprise on his face when I join him at the table again. He didn't expect me to take him up on the blue dress.

"Lovely, Sansa," he says after his eyes pass over me.

"Thank you, my lord." I can't help but notice he is dressed in blue as well.

* * *

Sansa has been restless for a while now, tossing and turning in bed. "Sansa?" I'm on my side and I can see her looking in my direction.

"I'm sorry, my lord. My thoughts...i'll try to let you sleep." Her voice is clear and I can tell she hasn't been able to find any rest.

"Tell me what's troubling you, maybe it will help to get the thoughts out and you can sleep." I wish I could reach out and touch her hand, but that's a line I dare not cross while we are laying in our bed.

She's quiet for a long time but I know that she is thinking about what I have said. She turns fully on her side to face me as well, "Tyrion." She's so quiet now, "would you...if you had the chance, would you take me away from here?"

I don't impulsively answer like my tired mind wants too, I stop myself and really think about what she's asking. I hate my family and King's Landing because of them, but I can't lie and say that I do not enjoy the game that I play here. Learning of peoples lies and secrets, holding the power with that knowledge. But...I'm finding things are changing now since I have married Sansa. The promise that I made to protect and honor her was honest and I want to stay true to my word to her as her husband. I have a responsibility towards her, and it's been taking precedence over any other need to stay here.

"Yes," I finally answer her, "I would take us away from here if I were given the chance." I make sure my point gets across that we would be going together.

I can almost see her body lose it's tension and she nods her head with a soft thank you. My wife had an unwanted conversation with Joffery earlier today and I know he is the cause for her unrest and need for reassurance. I can see her hand in the darkness move across the space between us and I bring my hand to meet it. It's such a small touch, just two of each of our fingers meet and twine but it seems to satisfy her like it does me, and I can hear that she finds sleep not long after.

* * *

One would think after so many years that I would be able to brush off peoples snickers directed towards me. But with my wife next to me, it only makes me more annoyed. "Ser Eldrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Crakehall." I mutter to myself.

"What are you doing?" Sansa questions from beside me.

"I have a list."

"A list of people you mean to kill?" she says in disbelief.

"For laughing at me? Do I look like Joffrey to you? No, death seems a bit extreme. Fear of death, on the other hand..."

"You should learn to ignore them."

"My lady, people have been laughing at me far longer than they've been laughing at you. I'm the Halfman, the Demon Monkey, the Imp."

"You're a Lannister. I am the disgraced daughter of the traitor Ned Stark." I hate hearing her have to speak in such a way towards her father.

"The disgraced daughter and the Demon Monkey. We're perfect for each other." I smile up at her.

Sansa looks at me with a small smile in return and a tinkling laugh. Her laugh is not mocking like it is with so many others, but happy. As if she were pleased with my statement. My chest grows warm at the sound.

Sansa questions, "So how should we punish them?"

"Who? Whom?"

"Ser Eldrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Crakehall."

"I could speak to Lord Varys and learn their perversions. Anyone named Desmond Crakehall must be a pervert."

She turns and gives me a teasing look, "I hear that you're a pervert."

"I am the Imp. I have certain standards to maintain."

I stop for a moment and she turns to me, "But on that note, Sansa, I want you to know I will not disgrace you with my perversions. I am your husband and," I quieted my voice, "while we do not share our bed the way husband and wife do, I will not lay with another woman either." I give a nod of finality and continue to walk.

It is true that I have chosen to be loyal to my wife in all regards. Shae may have been important to me and I had once wished that things could be different for us, but they are not. Sansa is my wife now and she is the one that should, and does, fill my thoughts. After Shae left Sansa's service not long after we were wed, it has gotten easier day by day to let her slip out of my mind, and to let her go.

Sansa has returned to my side and she quietly thanks me. "I will be loyal to you as well, Tyrion," she adds in a near whisper and I look up at her and smile. Look at us, a pair of married celibates, how fitting. She looks excited then and moves to sit on a bench a few steps ahead.

"We could sheep shift Lord Desmond's bed." I must have a confused look on my face, so she explains. "You cut a little hole in his mattress and you stuff sheep dung inside. Then you sew up the hole and make his bed again. His room will stink, but he won't know where it's coming from." She has such a self satisfied look on her face, it's beautiful.

"Lady Sansa!" I said in mock surprise.

"My sister used to do that when she was angry with me. And she was always angry with me."

"Why sheep _shift_?" I had a feeling what the answer would be.

She leaned towards me as if to tell me a secret, "That's the vulgar word for dung."

I was right, "My lady..."

"Well, you asked me."

I chuckle, "My lady, I believe the word you are meaning is 'shit' not shift.'"

A look of realization passes over her face followed quickly by embarrassment. Her cheeks are as red as the roses.

"You must think me such a fool."

"Oh no no, my dear." I reach a hand up and run the backs of my fingers along her cheek, "I think you endearing and charming. Your innocence is sweet, Sansa, and I love it. But, I will admit it is also a pleasure to taint some of that sweetness from time to time." I give her a wicked grin and take her hand to have her continue our walk. It's been a glorious morning spent with my wife.

I should have known that it wouldn't last. Our happiness will always be destined to shatter.

* * *

I tried my best to comfort my wife in the following days...but she wouldn't have me. The ice that grew up between us was so thick I was afraid I had lost her forever and our friendship that we had built up within the walls of our chamber. I couldn't even begin to make up for the loss that she had suffered and the hatred for the Lannister name had once again included me. My stomach is sick with the thought that she will never believe me when I tell her I had no hand in this.

She demanded solitude and shied away from my touch when I got close enough. In our shared bed at night was the only time I was allowed within arms length of Sansa. It was the most painful time of day at that, for I had to lay there and listen to my wife cry herself to sleep. Whether she wanted my words or not, I always ended our nights with whispers of comfort and wishes that her sleep was undisturbed. I will weather this storm with her the best that I can. I can't bear to see my wife drown.

* * *

I am a fool.

How could I possibly let myself believe that things could be good in this wretched place. I'm still a silly little girl who is easily charmed, who can be tricked so simply. The Lannisters...damn them all. I've lost everything since coming here. My family...

My chest is so tight I feel like I'm being choked, that the life is being squeezed out of me and I wouldn't fight it. I'd let death come. There is nothing here left for me.

Tyrion.

He comes to mind in an instant and I try my hardest to push him out, he's one of them, he's the enemy. My chest gets even tighter and I bury my face in my pillow to hide my tears. _no, he can't be the enemy, he can't._

I've been in a haze of grief since I was told of what happened. I haven't been able to focus on anything and all I want is to be left alone. But he comes to me. He sits with me still, even through my cold silence he stays. I can't accept any of his kindness now, my pain won't allow me.

I feel so betrayed by my own body because I want nothing more than to let his touches linger. To let him comfort me. I know what his comfort feels like now and I want it. He has been nothing but quiet and gentle since I was told of my family and there is a war raging inside my head now because of it. He is a Lannister. He is the family of the ones who had a hand in the brutal murder of my mother and brother. He is also my husband. The man who I let cover me in the morning and who has spent countless hours trying to get me to smile. Who has suffered willingly through my silence. He is the man who has never hurt me.

There's a war because I feel if I take comfort in him it will be a dishonor to my family.

* * *

I can hear him in our rooms. He walks to the bed, to my side where I am laying and I see him place a pure white flower down on the side table that is within my view. He turns and sees me watching him. He looks caught and he's frozen in place for a few moments. I hold his gaze and he gives me his smile, the hurt one that he has been wearing since this hell has fallen on me. I say nothing and he nods his head and exits the room without a word.

I lay there staring at the flower for hours.

* * *

It was on a day full of grief and solitude that my husband entered our chambers to find me sitting at our table with two cups and a jug of wine. Waiting for him. He looked shocked and didn't say anything for so long that I began to regret this, thinking he would like to spend the evening with me after all of my coldness towards him. But then he laughed and grinned at me so wide I could see all his teeth. I let out the breath I was holding and slowly push out his chair with one bare foot. My body relaxes as Tyrion walks towards me, already starting to tell me one of his silly tales.

After so much pain and heartache and doing my best to shut myself away from this wicked place, here in our rooms with my husband I can feel my chest clench but not in pain this time. I think it will be starting to heal. He may be a Lannister by name, but he is not one by heart. He is my husband. My friend. My tame lion who fills my cup with wine and my heart with peace. Who gave me a flower when I would accept nothing else from him.

* * *

It is late and we have crawled into bed at last. After Tyrion saw me waiting for him it was as if a great weight was lifted off his small shoulders. He stood taller and smiled brighter than ever before. I was quiet most of the night, which didn't deter him in the slightest. All I wanted was to sit and soak up the warmth he was giving off. I may be a child of the North but I have come to treasure the warmth of my friend.

It will not disgrace my family if I go to my husband for support. I won't let my fears and my pain blind me from his honest kindness. Everyone else may see him as a half man, a monster, but I know better.

I turn on my side to look at Tyrion and he's there looking back. My heart starts to beat harder in my chest but I ignore it before I lose my nerve. I reach towards him and the arm that is closest to me and raise it up by the pillow and I take it's place by his side and I rest my head on his shoulder.

He is so warm. Warmer than his laughter and his cheeky grins. He stays still as I settle in place nestled down into his side. Slowly, likely in fear of scaring me away, he raises his other arm and places it on my shoulder blade and I can feel his other hand move onto the back of my head and smooth out my hair.

And I begin to cry.

* * *

Oh, my Sansa. I fear that I may never be fully prepared for her actions. I'm always left standing in surprise with her.

It has been a long and taxing day being forced to share my company with people I care very little for because it is expected of me. I feel so drained and it gets worse a little each day. My lady Sansa has filled my thoughts and I live in constant worry for her. There is nothing I can do to ease her pain and I feel so inadequate as her husband. Surely there should be something I could do, but she wants nothing from me. It pains me to say that I do not blame her. I will always be grouped in with my family and their wicked deeds whether I took a part in them or not. I am not a stranger to hating my family. It's such an easy thing to do.

I was able to sneak away for a moment that morning and I went to the gardens. My wife will not take my words or my physical comfort but I will give her something sweet to look at. I pick the purest flower I can find and I make the journey to our rooms. I know she will be there.

I try to stay quiet if she is still in bed where I left her this morning. I walk to her side and place the flower on her nightstand where she will see it and I turn to leave. But she is there looking at me from the bed. Oh how I wish there was something I could say that wouldn't make her turn away from me. But there isn't and I'm resided to that fact so I leave as quietly as I came.

When the day finally reaches an end I return to our chambers after requesting our supper be brought up. Maybe tonight I can finally convince my wife to eat a full meal and not just bits of bread and cheese. I sigh heavily, I do not want to watch her waste away.

What I find upon entering our rooms is not at all what I had expected. My dear Sansa is sitting at our table and appears to have been waiting for me. With wine. I'm frozen in place, my vision narrowing down to just my wife. She looks anxious sitting there with her hands folded in her lap, but she doesn't look lost to grief like I have seen her so often these past days. It fills me with hope and I can't keep my smile from breaking forth.

I close the door to our rooms and walk to my wife, "You will never believe what I saw today. You know that idiot Crakehall? I saw him out walking today and the great lout wasn't watching what he was doing and walked himself right into a bush! I'll have you know I reacted in a dignified manner suited to my station...I'm lying, my dear Sansa, I haven't laughed so hard in my life. I wish you could have been there to see it." She doesn't laugh but she looks more relaxed and she is smiling at me now with humor in her eyes. I take great pleasure in putting that look there. I settle in my seat and she pours us both a cup of wine.

I take a moment just to drink in the sight of her sitting with me again. I have missed this. I've missed her. I fear I have become dependent on our time spent together. Finding a friend in her has given me an escape from the life I live in King's Landing. I wish to be given the chance to take her away from here someday. Soon. Her innocence has no place here.

I keep my tone soft, "I have missed you, Sansa." I couldn't keep the words from her.

I can see the tears forming in her eyes but she doesn't let them fall. She nods her head yes a couple times and I know she feels the same. She puts one of her hands on the table between us in a subtle offering for me to take. I am more than welcome to oblige and I lay my hand lightly on top of hers.

We spend our night quietly drinking our wine and I keep my conversation light and humorous and Sansa speaks very little, but it does not bother me. She has chosen to spend the evening with me and that's all that matters right now.

When my wife's eyes grow tired I stand and offer my hand to my lady and lead her to our bed and undress for the night. I've settled down into the pillows and turn to wish Sansa a good night, but she reaches for my arm and the words die out. We've never intentionally touched one another while laying in bed before, I knew any touch from me would be unwanted, but she's curling up to me now with her head on my shoulder and it is surreal.

Without thought my arms curve around her and I thread my fingers through her hair, and it is as soft as I remember it from our wedding night.

I feel her body start to tremble and she begins to cry.

Oh, my dear Sansa. My arms tighten around her and I stroke her hair in a soothing manner. She has come into my arms seeking comfort and I will do my best to give her that. It hurts to see her like this, the strong woman I know she is. Yet, a part of me is pleased that she has sought me out. It may be only from of a lack of anyone else to turn to, but I will take it regardless.

I let her mourn. I don't try to quiet her down or sooth her with false, meaningless words. I simply rub her arm and back and continue to let my fingers play with her hair. I feel a tear of my own run down my cheek and into my pillow. I rest my lips on her brow and a sweet melody I heard played not long ago comes to my mind and I begin to hum it to her, and she curls tighter to my side.

* * *

We're laying on our sides facing one another and my head is resting on his forearm, his other arm is curled over my waist. My eyes feel sore and heavy from my crying the night before but my chest feels lighter and the tightness that was squeezing the life out of me is gone. The pain from the loss of my family is still there but it is no longer killing me.

I was right in my decision to come to my husband, my friend, for the comfort that I know he's been wanting to give me.

Being this close to him I can see his scar in more detail. It cuts deep into his cheek and brow. I run the pad of my finger along the part below his eye, his skin is softer than it looks. His forehead wrinkles as he begins to wake up. I can see the moment when he realizes that I'm touching his scarred face, a look of shame and embarrassment takes over his features. He pulls his face away from my hand and looks away.

"I know I'm not a sight you'd wish to see in the morning, my lady." He tries to turn over and away from me but I grip his shoulder in protest.

"Stop. Your face is not something new to me, Tyrion." I don't tell him things he knows are not true, that he is handsome, but he needs to understand that his looks no longer bother me and I do not mind waking up to him. I put my hand back to his scar with my thumb resting on the deepest part. The look he is giving me makes my heart beat a little harder, as if he is amazed by my actions. I lean in and press a small kiss to his other cheek for good measure. When I rest my head back to his arm his mouth is hanging open and I laugh quietly.

I reach down for the covers and I bring them up to our ears and I close my eyes again and get comfortable.

"Is it a day you wish to stay in bed, my lady?" he asks me.

"It is a morning we shall both stay in bed." I reply. I feel his hand at my waist move to my back and settle there.

Some time later I hear a handmaid enter but leave shortly after when neither of us acknowledge her presence. It's a peaceful morning for both of us.

* * *

I had decided to visit Tyrion in his solar one afternoon. After walking about the gardens with lady Margaery I wanted to sit quietly to read and while Tyrion does his work I'm able to find a comfortable corner to settle into. He smiled when I came in and I reassured him I wasn't there to bother him, just wanted his quiet company.

Bronn had joined us some time later and was lazying about in one of the chairs. Every so ofter he'd lean forward and start messing with things on Tyrion's desk.

Bronn spoke up suddenly, "Ahh, the famous Podrick. I'm sure you'll be tickled to know that there's still talk of you down at the brothel." I look up and see Podrick standing in the open archway.

"Now is not the time, Bronn." My husband says with an apologetic look towards me. I smile and shake my head at him.

"I don't believe this is a discussion I wish to be present for." Podrick failed to notice my presence in the corner and he steps back in shock and looks like he stopped breathing. I move past him to my husband at his desk and lean down to kiss his cheek, "I'll see you later tonight, I'm sure."

Podrick's not the only one sporting a shocked look; Tyrion gives me a stunned nod of his head. "Yes, of course, Sansa."

I smile and turn to leave and Bronn is chuckling as he gives me a wicked grin. I give my goodbyes as I walk out, "Good day, gentlemen."

I'll take my book reading somewhere a little more quiet where I don't have to listen to what I'm sure will shape up to be an inappropriate conversation for the three men. I do acknowledge quietly to myself that I got satisfaction from showing affection towards my husband where others could see and not just in our rooms alone. Showing others, and my husband, that I'm not miserable in my marriage.

Things are once again changing between Tyrion and I. On the walk back to the gardens I hug my book to my chest and smile.


	4. Chapter 4

_This has been a joy to write. Thank you for the kind words and encouragement. Enjoy._

* * *

Tyrion is woken up by the cell door being thrown open. He looked up just in time to see his wife being thrown in and falling to the floor.

"Sansa," he whisper, barely believing his eyes.

Tyrion rushes to her and helps sit her up in the darkness. She looks him in the eye and begins to cry. "Shhh, shhh, it is alright." His hands are still on her shoulders and she falls forward onto him, burying her face into his chest and her arms holding him tight.

"They told me...they told me you were dead. Tyrion, they told me..." She was in hysterics, crying harder now and shaking. Of course they would tell her such a lie. Just one more way to frighten his wife.

"Well, I am here, alive. It is alright, dear." He holds her as close to himself as he can and rubs her back to try and calm her. Her tears begin to slow down but her shaking remains. "What has happen to you, Sansa? I was told that you had left..." He hadn't wanted to believe it, his foolish heart thought his wife would stay loyal at his side. _But why would any woman do that, you silly dwarf._ he had thought bitterly at the time. Yet, here she is. Crying in his arms because they had told her he was dead.

"After Joffery fell to the ground, Dontos told me that I had to leave if I wanted to live. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away but I tried to turn back, I told him that I had to get you first; that you had to come with me. I tried, Tyrion, I pulled so hard." Her sobs shake her body with every breath and she grabs the front of his jacket. There's a sudden tight pain in his chest. "He wouldn't let me go and I heard Cersei yelling for the guards to arrest you. We didn't get far before a guard spotted us, me, and grabbed me before I could run. I don't know what they did to him. They...they took me back and locked me away for so long and they, they started questioning me, demanding me to tell them what I knew of Joffery's murder. But I know nothing, Tyrion! And I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen...that's when they came and told me you had been killed." It all came pouring out of her like a flood.

Tyrion's heart was breaking to see her in such a state. She has never been like this. No doubt, they told her that lie to get her to speak, in hopes that she would tell in fear of them taking her life as well. He will kill whoever told her that lie. She seems to have run out of words and slumps down against him in exhaustion. He holds her and whispers to her that he was there now and that she would be alright.

Oh, what a mess they are in. With Sansa there with him now, one less thing to worry about, he can really think upon what had happened that day.

Joffery was dead. The prick had been killed.

Tyrion knew nothing of it and knew for certain that his wife had no knowledge of it as well. She would not keep something like that from him. And yet, they are the ones with the biggest targets on their backs and now the ones standing accused. Sansa in revenge for his cruel, evil behavior towards her, and Tyrion for downright hating the bastard, which was not a secret to anyone. He knew deep down that they will get no justice. Cersei will want blood for her sons death and Tyrion knew it would be his that she demands to see spilled.

_But I will not let them take my wife. She will not be punished for this, I won't allow it. I will do all I can to get her name cleared._

Gently, he got Sansa to her feet and brought her to the back of the cell where he had been dozing before she was put here. His sits back down against the wall and brings her with him. "Try to get some rest, Sansa, we will need it to face the day."

She brings her hand to his cheek and he holds it there with one of his own as she leans her forehead to his. They share a few breaths before she leans back and then curls beside him with her head on his thigh and one hand gripping his knee. Tyrion runs his fingers through her hair, trying to keep her calm so she could rest. He could cry himself with how unfair this all was. _Haven't we both suffered enough?_

"I wanted to die," she said, in the darkness of their prison. It was a shocking statement that he wasn't prepared for.

"Sansa, why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it is true. When they told me...I couldn't bear it, Tyrion." It was just like when her family were murdered, so much pain, so much sadness lacing her voice. Yet this time he can take some of that away.

"But I am here, my dear Sansa. You can let the pain you felt go. Please, do not mourn for me now." He could feel warm wetness on his pant leg and knew she was crying again.

_I will kill them. I will kill them all for doing this to her. May the gods be good to us come morning._

* * *

Tyrion woke when the light from the small window came to rest on his face. Sansa was still asleep in his lap and he left her be.

Just days ago they were both warm and safe in their own bed, curled under the covers. Sansa had begun to sleep by his side and no longer on the far end of the bed. They had gotten in the habit of laying there before sleep, talking quietly to one another; Sansa of her childhood in the North and Tyrion of his time in Casterly Rock. He tried to paint a beautiful picture for her of that place, in hopes that he might some day take her there, and call it their home. He had come to love their nights in bed together. Sansa always had a sleepy smile on her face, and she would kiss him on the cheek before wishing him a good night.

Those times have come to an end and this waking nightmare has begun.

Still drowsy from sleep Tyrion takes in the sight of his wife. There was blood on her skirt and it made panic shoot through him to see it. _What have they done to her?_ Without thought he reached down and touch where the blood lay, halfway up her right leg on the back, where her dress had been sliced through. He pulls up her skirt to the knee to see what damage had been done to Sansa.

There was a gash there on her calf, clotted now but there was still dried blood running the length of her leg to her shoe. Tyrion had thought that his anger on behalf of his wife last night could get no worse but he was wrong. He began checking the rest of what he can see of her and found no more wounds, but as she wakes and turns to face him he finally sees her in the light of day. And he does not like what he sees. The right side of Sansa's face...they struck her, more than once it would seem. From temple to jaw, she was bruised a moulten purple and with a cut to her lip as well. Tyrion had not seen any of this in the darkness last night.

"Oh, dear Sansa, what have they done?" He can't keep the anger from my voice.

Her face is sad as she sits up in front of him, and he keeps one hand on her arm. "One of the king's guard took his sword to my leg to make me kneel," she tells him. His jaw clenches. "I wasn't giving them the answers they wanted." She was calm as she told him, like it was to be expected. He's sick at the realization that she is use to such treatment.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to break the door down and find the scum who dared strike his wife. _Their grievance is not with her, it is with me!_ And it kills him to see this punishment duled out on her instead. Sansa could see the frustration building in him and his glances toward the cell door. She tries to calm him, "Stop it, Tyrion. It is done, do not go making this any worse for yourself. I am fine and this physical pain I can bear. Please don't have me watch you suffer through it as well."

"I would _gladly_ suffer through that pain if it means you are spared, Sansa." His voice is hard and there is no room for argument and she knows it. Tyrion cups his palm to her unmarked cheek as he leans in to lay a kiss to the side that is colored. He rests his forehead to her temple, "I am sorry, my love. This should not have happened," he whispers to her, the endearment slipping out in his pain.

She turns her head then and brings her lips to his without any hesitation. _My wife..._ so full of surprises, she is. Even here, sitting on the floor of a cell, in a beam of light from the morning sun. Her kiss is soft and all his. He did not request it of her nor pay her to do it. Sansa is kissing him because he is her friend and the one to comfort her and protect her. Because she wants too.

Tryion wanted nothing more than to live inside this kiss. He returns it with more pressure and she brings her hand to his neck with her thumb to his jaw. He's never had a kiss so sweet. The only regret is that it is happening now in a cell, mere days before they are likely going to be sentenced to death.

When she pulls away she doesn't go far, just enough to meet his eyes clearly. She looks shy. "This should not have happened to you either, Tyrion." She whispers into the space between them and closes her eyes and rests her head against his. "I want to be in our rooms. I thought we were safe there."

He puts his hand on her neck and buries his fingertips in her hair, "I wish we could be there too, Sansa."

"What is going to happen to us, Tryion?" Her voice is so broken and it is just another thing he can not fix.

"I won't lie to you. My sister will want my head for this, guilty or not."

"Is there anyone to help us?"

"It's too soon to tell. If a trial is to be held then our judges will be named. Knowing my father and sister, the odds will be stacked against us no doubt. Maybe Jaime can help but he hasn't come to see me and at this point I don't know if he will," he tells Sansa. Tyrion has tried not to think of Jaime's absence. He let the feel of his wife's hair distract him.

"There has to be a way to sneak away in the night, if we had help," says Sansa. "It'd be our only chance to stay alive, Tyrion."

His wife is not ignorant, she knows what their chances are. "I will do all I can to see you pardoned, Sansa. I will not allow them to take your life for Joffery's murder."

"But what about you? I can not stand by and watch as they kill you, Tyrion." She sounds angry, pulling away from him and her face has gone hard. "No, I won't do it. I won't watch you die. Either we live or they kill us both."

_I can not let her think that I will allow her to die with me_, "Sansa-"

"No."

He tries again, "You can not throw your life away for-"

"I said no." She turns away from him then but not before he watches as a tear falls. She leaves his side to sit by the wall with her back to him on the other side of the room. He can't understand why she wouldn't want to fight for her own life...

He feels exhausted.

Tryion leaves Sansa alone for a while, letting her really think about what she's contemplating. She'll see the error in her ways, he's sure of it. She can't possibly think it's alright to choose death as well if that is to be his own fate.

He tries to clear his head and really think about how this could all go, what options they have for a defense. His mind won't settle knowing his dear Sansa is once again hurting. Not able to stay away, he goes to her and sits at her back. Placing his hands lightly on her waist and leaning his forehead to the back of her shoulder, "I can't bear the thought of dieing knowing that you'll follow soon after," he whispers to her.

She moves quickly to face him, still angry, "And why do you think it'll be any easier for me, Tyrion? To watch you die and know that I'll be left here alone without you? I remember what it was like here before I became your wife and I don't ever wish to return to that. It was no life at all." She gets quieter after that admission, "Please, don't leave me here alone."

All he can do is give a tiny nod, and take her hand in his own, "I won't ever leave you."

* * *

Podrick comes to them one morning.

"My lord. I'm sorry, I brought you some wine but they took it from me. But, they didn't find the candles though. A quill and parchment, duck sausage, almonds and some hard cheese." He pulls all these out of hidden spots in his clothing as they watch in impressed silence.

Tyrion chuckles, "You are a fine squire, Podrick. Fine indeed." Next to him, Sansa gives her agreement with a smile and a soft thank you.

He sits then to give them word of what has been happening on the outside, the plans for the trial and their judges.

When he speaks of the man who asked him to testify against Tyrion and his refusal to do so, he gets a sick feeling of dread. Nothing good will come of this. He warns him away, knowing he was no longer safe in the city.

Sansa rises quickly to go to Pod before he leaves and grabs him in an embrace. "You've always done well by my husband, and for that I am grateful." She steps back to Tyrion's side and he sees that Pod is standing there stunned with his face full of pain. Tyrion's chest hurts again.

"Yes, my lady." He is quiet and turns to the door once more.

Tyrion stops him, "Pod," he turns back to face him, "there has never lived a more loyal squire."

It has made the pain on his face worse and they can see tears in his eyes as he turns and gives a broken goodbye.

Sansa kneels next to Tyrion and puts her arms around his shoulders and leans her head to his own after placing a kiss to the jaw. He takes his wife's comfort and tries to convince himself that Pod will be okay. He will get out in time.

* * *

They were sitting on the floor; Tyrion with his back to one of the wooden beams that stand in the room, Sansa at his side leaning shoulder to shoulder. She's been in almost constant contact with him since their disagreement and right now she has a firm grip on his hand. That's when Jaime comes in the door.

Tyrion feels his wife tense up beside him and he squeezes her hand in reassurance.

He doesn't bother to get up and greet his brother. "Jaime."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come here." He walks towards them and reaches down to hand Sansa a thick brown cloak. "To help with the cold, my lady."

Sansa takes the cloak after a moment of silence and puts it on the floor in front of her. Jaime looks a bit taken aback by her silence and lack of thanks. She just stares at him with a blank face.

Tyrion turns his attention back to his brother, "We're not in the most grateful of moods. Being wrongfully accused of murder by ones own family tends to do that to a person. You understand." He couldn't help being curt.

Jaime takes a deep breath and nods, turning to find a place to sit on the ground as well.

* * *

They place Sansa beside Tyrion on the stand. They are to be judged as one. It seems that Sansa will get her wish; they shall parish together.

Not long before, two guards had come to the cell to have them cuffed and brought to the hall. The day they had been silently dreading had finally arrived. Tyrion did not care how they put the chains on him without a thought or care for his comfort but he protested at the ruff handling of his wife yet it did no good, it fell on deaf ears and they pulled them along the corridors to face their judgement.

Kneeling there beside him, Sansa reached for her husbands hand and gripped it tight till her knuckles were white. Sansa is strong and resilient and he had always admired and loved that of her. But, he could feel her hand tremble and cold with sweat, her breathing heavy. She was terrified but her face showed nothing but cold indifference.

Tyrion could do nothing but pray that he had the chance to get her through this alive. If there was any way of doing so, he would find it. He will not see her killed for Jofffery.

* * *

A trial by combat.

That was the best he could do, the only thing he could think of in his burning anger. He regretted later making that decision for the both of them, for forgetting in that moment that he was damning her as well should their champion fail them.

Sansa soothed him though, back in their shared cell, telling him that there truly was no other option for them. That the trial would have continued with more people giving false testimonies against them and getting them killed in the end.

If they were to find someone to fight for them, to place their lives in their hands, it had much better odds then leaving their lives in the hands of Tywin and Cersei. Anything would be better than that.

* * *

They were tense and restless the days before the combat. Even with their good fortune with Oberyn stepping forward for them it was still difficult to put their faith in one person knowing that should he fail it would be the end of the line for them both. There would be no more chances.

They're brought out to watch the combat, the sun burning bright in the sky and hundreds of spectators there hoping to see them lose the game. Hearts racing but faces set in stone, not wanting to give anyone, least of all the Lannisters, the satisfaction of seeing fear so plainly on their faces. Sansa is quiet; Tyrion is confident.

Sansa places her hand on her husbands shoulder and grips it tight. The only comfort they can afford in front of these people.

When Oberyn falls it knocks the breath right of Tyrion and Sansa sinks to her knees. Their last and only hope had been dashed; slaughtered right there in front of them.

When Tywin sentences them both to death, Sansa begins to weep quietly and Tyrion can't stop whispering to her, "I'm sorry. Sansa, I'm so sorry."

The guards lead them back to their cell.

* * *

It is to be their last night. They have had their time of grief and anger and now they are quiet and despondent.

They lay together on their meager bedding, Tyrion on his back and Sansa on her side facing him. They have been quiet for so long with the silence broken only by the rustling of their clothes as they moved, trying to get comfortable but never succeeding.

She speaks now though, so soft and low, only for Tyrion. "I could love you. I knew I could. These past weeks, I could feel it. The possibility." She closes her eyes in pain and her mouth quakes. "I thought we had time, that I had time to let myself love you and to hope you loved me in return. I just thought we had more time." She broke then, her face crumbling.

It's been so long since Tyrion's emotions have been shaken so much. But this, his wife lying at his side speaking of a future of loving him, of expecting it and anticipating it, a future that they no longer have. That is what breaks him. Not their imminent death, or the betrayal of his family. It's of the love that he now knows he will not experience from his wife. He brings his hand to his eyes in a vain attempt to keep his own tears at bay. To hide his own crumbling face from his wife. He feels her arm then as it winds itself around his chest and he lets the tears fall as she tells him, "I could love you, Tyrion. Please, just know that."

* * *

Tyrion is woken by the cell door swinging open. He knows that their time is up, that Cersei has grown impatient and has finally sent someone to kill him and Sansa. He knows that he can not fight and win over whoever their attacker is, but he prays for it to be quick and painless for them both. Sansa lays still in sleep, unaware of their new guest. He reaches down for her hand.

"Go on, or are you afraid of dwarf and his wife, you son of a whore," he taunted the attacker.

"Is that any way to speak of our mother?" came a voice that Tyrion was not expecting.

Tyrion turned in shock to look at who had entered their cell, "Jaime."

His brother stood in the doorway with a torch shining light in the room and he was gesturing impatiently. "What are you doing?" Tyrion asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Come on!" Jaime gestured again for him to follow, and Tyrion quickly turned to Sansa to wake her.

"Sansa, come, we need to leave." He put his hand to her face and rubbed his thumb gently under her eye and she started to wake.

"Tyrion? What..." Sansa saw Jaime then and sat up to look at her husband in question.

Tyrion stood up and grabbed Sansa's hand for her to do the same. "We need to hurry."

She nodded and took his hand and they followed Jaime out, not knowing what was waiting for them outside the cell door.

Jaime led them through the tunnels, their pace rushed, his torch lighting the way. He brings them to a long stairway and tells them to knock on the locked door at the top, that Varys is there waiting to help them, that he will send them on their way to the Free Cities. It was a risk but Tyrion was willing to take it if it meant another chance to keep Sansa alive and away from this cursed city. Sansa moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked up into the dark with hope.

It was setting in now, what they were about to do. They were going to escape and looking at Sansa's face at that moment he knew it was the right move to make. "I suppose this is goodbye then," Tyrion leaned back to look at his brother, "Thank you, for Sansa's life."

"And yours," Jaime corrected. Tyrion nodded. Jaime knelt then and hugged his brother one last time.

Jaime rose after and walked over to Sansa and wished her well, "Please, be good to my brother," he spoke in a hushed voice. Her face was like stone at his request.

"I'm one of the few who has been in this godforsaken place." She turned from him then to her husband and rested her hand on his shoulder and looked at Jaime. She will never be forgiving to any Lannister save for her husband. Tyrion has been wronged by so many here, but she vowed to never be one of them again.

"Thank you for freeing Tyrion and I." Sansa granted him that one gratefulness, but nothing more.

With one last nod of farewell to his brother, Tyrion reached for Sansa's hand and she leaned to give him a kiss and it tasted of luck and sweet freedom. He led her into the dark with sure steps. They will make their escape to the Free Cities and take their chances there. They will take this journey with lighter hearts, because they are free and not alone.

Jaime watches his brother for the last time, walking into the unknown, guiding his wife by the hand.

The last thing he hears from them was Sansa's whispered voice carried down the stairwell, "We've been given back our time, Tyrion." and a quiet but joyous laugh given in return.


End file.
